Awash (The Forgotten Coast Florida Suspense Series Book 6)
Page 17
“This was the only way I could quit,” he said. “Every night, once everyone else is in bed, I come out here and have one cigarette. It’s when I’m at my most relaxed.”
“You usually seem pretty relaxed,” Maggie said, leaning beside him.
“I generally am, when I’m with you.” He smiled. “The calming influence is mutual.”
Maggie smiled. She wanted to go back to ten minutes ago, half an hour. “You weren’t very calm when I was pointing a shotgun at you.”
He laughed softly. “You didn’t feel very safe with me then, either.”
She looked into those eyes, and wished she could let herself leave. “A lot of things changed during that hurricane,” she said.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
He held her gaze, and she thought about shutting up. She thought about running. His hand was just a few inches from hers on the porch rail. They were standing almost close enough to dance, and she wished they could.
“You know, Wyatt worries about me, being with you,” she said slowly.
“I know,” he said. “Of course he does, but he doesn’t need to.” He took another draw on his cigarette, blew it away from her.
“I think Daddy worries that you’re my latest injured turtle or lost cat.”
He watched her as he took another drag. “I don’t understand what that means,” he said, then exhaled.
“It’s a nurturing, rescuing thing,” she said, shaking her head.
“Do you want to rescue me, Maggie?” he asked softly.
“Yes. Of course,” she said. “I have. And you’ve rescued me.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
Maggie swallowed. “My mother just worries that I’m falling in love with you,” she said, and instantly wanted to suck the words back in, but this was what she’d come here for. She watched something flicker in his eyes for a moment, just for an instant. Then he looked away and took a long drag of his cigarette. After a moment, he exhaled, then looked back at her.
“No, she doesn’t,” he said finally, sounding only slightly defensive.
“Why shouldn’t she, Mr. Boudreaux?” Maggie asked. “You’re extremely handsome and charismatic. You’ve done things…on my behalf. And you almost died saving my life. That’s quite a heady combination.”
He took one last, quick draw from his cigarette, then walked over to the side table, ground it out in the glass ashtray there. Maggie held her breath. She expected him to put distance between them, to sit down in the chair there, but he surprised her by turning around and walking back.
Boudreaux took a deep breath and walked back to the porch rail. He was unaccustomed to needing a moment to think, but this conversation was taking an unexpected turn. He’d like nothing more than to put her mind at ease about her family’s concerns, but he wasn’t prepared, at that moment, to do that honestly. Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of a dishonest way to do it, either.
He leaned his hand back against the rail and looked at Maggie, waited.
“Haven’t you ever considered it, Mr., Boudreaux?” she asked quietly.
“Considered what, Maggie? That your parents would think you were having an affair with me?”
“No,” she said, and he thought she looked almost scared. “That I would want to.”
Boudreaux stopped breathing for a moment, and he felt a chill move through his gut, like someone had opened up the scar that went across his midsection, and poured a glass of ice water into it.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look surprised, Mr. Boudreaux,” she said softly. “When you first started this…relationship, did you really never think that might happen?”
“You’re in love with Wyatt,” he said after a moment, unable to think of something less impotent off the top of his head. No, he had not at any time considered that possibility.
“I wouldn’t be the first woman to love one man and fall for another,” she said. “I’m sure I wouldn’t be the first one to fall for you.”
Boudreaux’s eyes narrowed just a bit, involuntarily. He stared at her, seeking out pretense or deceit, but all he saw was vulnerability, and maybe a little bit of fear.
“Maggie…” he started, then didn’t know what he wanted to say.
“Would that be unwelcome, Mr. Boudreaux?” she asked, and he saw her lower lip tremble just slightly.
He swallowed. “It would be impossible,” he said.
“Are you gay?” she asked him, and he heard hope in her voice.
“No,” he answered quietly.
Her eyes instantly teared up, and she looked out at the dark yard. “The alcohol has worn off,” she said quietly. “Enough for me to feel embarrassed.”
“Maggie,” he said, and she looked back at him. A tear streaked slowly down her bruised cheek, and he wondered how God could be so cruelly ironic, that He would put Boudreaux in the position of having to reassure his daughter that he didn’t find her unattractive.
Then he thought that this was probably exactly the situation that his lies had earned him, exactly the penance he should face for having inserted himself into her life as he had.
“Maggie,” he said softly. He reached out and touched a thumb to her cheek, gently wiped away the tear that slid alongside her nose. “Let me make something very clear. If we weren’t who we are, if circumstances were different, I have no doubt that you would have been the one great love of my life.”
Her eyes pooled again, and a tear slid down the other cheek. He dropped his hand, let it go.
“Which circumstances are those, Mr. Boudreaux?” she asked.
He let out a slow breath to keep himself from telling the truth. He had long since decided that that truth shouldn’t come from him.
“All of them,” he said finally.
She stared back at him for a moment, then nodded. “I need to go.”
“I wish you wouldn’t,” he said, though he couldn’t imagine where their night could go from here.
“I need to,” she said, then shoved away from the railing.
“I’ll walk you back to Wyatt’s,” he said, straightening up.
“No. It’s okay,” she said. “I’d really prefer you didn’t.”
They looked at each other a moment, and Boudreaux stopped himself from telling her to sit down and listen.
“Goodnight, Mr. Boudreaux,” she said quietly.
“Goodnight, Maggie,” he answered, and watched her walk down the steps, along the path, and around the corner of the house.
Maggie’s boots crunched through the driveway and onto the sidewalk. It was only once she’d reached the concrete that Maggie allowed herself to breathe again.
She wished she had never come here. She wished she hadn’t needed to know what she didn’t want to know. She had known it was a risk. She had known that there were several bad ways that it could go tonight. She had known that she was going to lose someone she loved tonight, and it had been her friend and comforter, Bennett Boudreaux.
She had known that there was more than one answer that could hurt her.
Unfortunately, she’d gotten the one that would hurt the most. She hadn’t wanted to be unfaithful to Wyatt, hadn’t wanted Boudreaux to lean in and kiss her and declare his undying love. But she’d give anything right now if he had.
She made it to Wyatt’s front door without giving in to the clenching she felt in her chest, managed to fumble the key into the lock before she gave way to the tightness in her throat and let out a sob that frightened her with its force. Then she slammed the door behind her.
Across the street, Bennett Boudreaux stood on the corner, his hands in his pants pockets and the wind sweeping his hair into his eyes. He stood there and watched the house for a moment, then turned and walked away.
Thank you so much for reading. If you’d like an email when the next book in the series is released, please sign up for my newsletter here. You can also learn of new releases and other things that I alone feel are important on my FACEBOOK page.
A
few words of thanks:
Thank you to my patient and tireless editor, Tammi Labrecque of LarksandKatydids.com, to my wonderful cover designer, Shayne Rutherford of DarkMoonGraphics.com, and to book designer goddess Colleen Sheehan of WriteDreamRepeat.com. You are the trifecta of publishing.
Special thanks, as always, to my technical advisor and friend John Solomon, who shares his experience with the Franklin County Sheriff’s Office, and his love of Apalach, so generously.
To my beautifully dysfunctional family of authors in Author’s Corner: Thank you for your constant supply of encouragement, support, laughter, knowledge and tubesteak. I love you, each and every one.
Finally, to my children, Michael, Kat, Chelsey, Matthew and Rebecca; it is because of you that I write, and it is only because of you that I can.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Join my newsletter
A few words of thanks